"I'm trying to convince you that we are faced with a very clever
criminal mind," I said. "A man with a fine talent. One who plans his
crimes so well that they aren't even recognized as criminal."
"Nonsense. You can't conceal any crime forever."
"Forever isn't necessary, Chief. Just long enough to cover up
completely, to remove all connection. We don't know how many bank
tellers have been running on reduced salary because they somehow paid
out a hundred in cashing a ten-dollar check. We couldn't demand an
audit of all the big financial accounts in town, to know the why and
wherefore of the transfer of any sum of money larger than the limit of
petty larceny."
"But now you are talking about a sly, clever operator, Schnell. This is
a plain case of homicide and burglary."
_Plain?_ Was he kidding himself?
I smiled crookedly. "Chief, there is no doubt in my mind that our crook
intended to clean out Gordon Andrews' safe without disturbing a soul.
But the imminent awakening of Andrews presented a physical threat that
had to be silenced immediately."
"So that is the work of your sly thief?"
"Chief, just remember that Gordon Andrews was an eccentric old sourpuss
who hated to do business with bankers. Now let's suppose that Andrews
had awakened in the morning to find his safe cleaned out. He screeches
for the cops. We come a-roaring in with the fingerprint detail and the
safe specialists and the break-in experts. We find," I said with a
wave of my hand, "everything just as we found it here and now. So we
look Gordon Andrews in the eye and tell him that no one _could_ get
in, no one _had_ gotten in, and that we suspect him of cleaning out
his own safe and yelling 'Copper' to make trouble for the Mayor and
the Commissioner, who refused to appoint him a special detail of city
employees for bodyguards last year."
"Go on, Schnell," said Chief Weston with deadly patience.
"The homicide was a spur-of-the-moment necessity. Had it been planned,
the crook would have plugged Andrews with the old man's personal
Banker's Special, which he kept on the bedside table, and made it look
like suicide."
"Know a lot about Andrews, don't you, Schnell?"
"What do you mean, Chief?"
"About the Banker's Special."
"I have an excellent memory," I said. "Andrews had a license for the
thing. The serial number is 233,467,819 and the gun and license were
acquired on August seventh, 1951."
* * * * *